


Where No One Cares What You Hit

by cannibalspicnic



Category: Succession (TV 2018)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, F/M, Gerromandering, Phone Sex, Verbal Humiliation, gerrolina, missing Japan scenes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:28:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22260346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cannibalspicnic/pseuds/cannibalspicnic
Summary: In which we discover some new things about Gerri, and Gerri discovers some new things about herself.Takes place during 2x01-2x04Written for prompts:bamboobrat asked to know what Gerri was doing during the hunt in 2x03lizwontcry asked for Gerri pining for RomanNobody asked for Gerrolina, but I really wanted to write it.
Relationships: Gerri Kellman/Karolina Novotney, Gerri Kellman/Roman "Romulus" Roy
Comments: 15
Kudos: 54





	Where No One Cares What You Hit

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lizwontcry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lizwontcry/gifts), [bamboobrat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamboobrat/gifts).



It starts with an explosion.

Gerri isn’t thrilled to be sent off to babysit Roman in Japan, but Karolina is busy cleaning up Kendall’s shitshow, so the job falls to her. She expects hers is an easy enough task to complete. What she doesn’t expect is how much those three days in Japan seem like a vacation, and how much of that is due to Roman.

He’s nervous on the plane. Gerri’s emailing with Karolina, trying to nail the tone for Kendall’s statement, and Roman is in a pattern of sitting, fidgeting, getting up, pacing, then sitting again. It’s already wearing thin when he flops down next to her, his leg bouncing against hers in a maddening rhythm.

“Roman,” she grits, slapping a hand on his knee. He startles, and his leg instantly stills. He looks at her hand and back at her, and she is faced with the full force of Roman Roy’s attention. It’s a little intense, and from her experience, rare. She might as well take advantage of it. “I’m sending you the first draught of the statement I prepared for you. I want you to go over it and see where it can be improved.”

“You want _me_ to help write the statement?”

“It is _your_ fuckup we’re trying fix here. Is it so ridiculous to think you might want to do something besides sitting around with your dick in your hand?” She waits for the pushback, but it doesn’t come. Instead, he blinks at her a few times before pulling out his phone and opening his emails.

“What…uh…what should I be looking for?”

“Just go over it in your head a few times. Try to see if the phrasing and feel of it work for you. We’ll be relying a lot on the translation for the Japanese news, but there will be American press as well, and it’s going to make a difference if you feel confident in the message.”

“Uh…yeah. That makes sense.” 

He ducks his head down, and his eyes move along the screen. She’s not used to seeing him focused. With his brow drawn and the frown of concentration on his face, he looks almost serious. For a second, she can even see a vague resemblance to Logan. Realizing she’s staring, Gerri snaps her head back to her laptop.

After 20 minutes of companionable silence while the two of them type on their respective devices, Roman pops his head up. “I made some changes.”

Gerri opens the document and skims over his notes. She had just intended to give him busy work, but some of these are good. It’s sounds more genuine; he knows how to use his unique charm to his advantage. Although… “Roman, you’re not offering a lifetime supply of handjobs to the men who lost thumbs.” She reads further and grimaces. “And we’re going to leave tentacles out of it all together.”

He grins lewdly. “Saw it in a movie. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”

“You’re disgusting.” He looks very proud of himself, and she purses her lips to keep from smiling. She’s pretty sure he notices because his grin widens, making it even more difficult to maintain a stern face. “Go get me a drink.”

“Of course. Wouldn’t want you to dry out,” he snipes but bounds over to the bar like a Labrador retriever to do as he’s told. Gerri wonders if this obedience is new or if she’s just never noticed it underneath the grotesque humor and bluster. When he comes back and passes her a glass, he sits back down next to her, but he’s not fidgeting anymore. He seems relaxed. Maybe it’s just the whiskey.

When they land, Gerri gives Roman some soundbytes to throw out before the official press conference, and he tosses back a nauseating comment but performs with aplomb in front of the few reporters they encounter. She congratulates him on managing five whole minutes of grown-up time, and he thanks her for lubing him up before sending him out to get fucked. The exchange is oddly sincere.

That night, they have dinner together and go over the schedule for the next day. Roman asks her advice about meeting with the victims in the morning and actually listens to what she tells him. They discuss Kendall, and she notices his genuine concern for his brother underneath his lingering anger. It makes her feel…something.

The whole conversation is littered with insults, innuendos, and more than a few eye rolls. The banter is becoming indicative of their interactions in general. It’s cathartic in a way. It’s not like Gerri can tell Kendall he’s a moron, or Shiv that she’s full of shit, or Logan…anything that he doesn’t want to hear. With Roman, though, they keep it blunt, honest, and, most shockingly, fun. God help her, she’s enjoying the company of Roman Roy.

The next day, he takes her recommendation and speaks in brief, sincere (as much as he can manage it) statements with the victims and avoids any admission of guilt. It goes well, and he’s clearly feeling more at ease in the car when he slumps down with his legs spread wide enough that his calf hits hers. She glares. He grins. Neither of them move their legs.

“So, where do you wanna go for dinner?” he asks when they’re back at the hotel.

“I’m probably going to order room service. I’ve got a ton of emails and documents to get through about this bear hug.”

“Oh,” he pouts. Gerri is surprised at how disappointed he sounds.

“I’m sorry, Rome.”

“What? What the fuck do I care?” he snaps. “Have fun in your room. Order yourself some porn…or a special massage. See if someone can clear the cobwebs from your—”

“Roman,” she says sharply, and he looks immediately chastised.

“Sorry.”

In her room later, Gerri’s trying to stave off a headache while responding to an onslaught of emails when she gets a text.

Roman: _am at dinner with the assistants thanks to you. Do you think gouging my eyeball out with a chopstick would give me enough reason to leave?_

She snorts and puts the phone back down, turning back to the computer screen. Poor Dave and Carol. Dinner with Roman Roy was probably not on the top of their to-do list either. Unable to focus on the words in front of her, she finds herself picking up the phone again.

Gerri: _An eyepatch might play well in the press. Sympathy._

Roman: _I’d look like a sexy pirate_

Roman: _wanna see my peg leg_

Gerri responds with the middle finger emoji, but she’s smirking, and her headache is gone. Her work doesn’t seem quite so tedious, and the rest of the night goes better than expected. She even manages to finish up in time for a full five hours of sleep. When she wakes up, there’s another message from Roman. It’s a picture of the wooden leg of a table. It makes her laugh more than it should.

As she’s finishing getting ready, there’s a knock on her door. Opening it, she finds Roman on the other side, holding a cup of coffee. “Here,” he says, shoving it into her hand. “Wanted to make sure you didn’t fucking bore yourself to death last night.”

“Um, thank you?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs. “We’re meeting in half an hour, right? For the thing?”

“I’ll be there.” She notices he’s squirming again, and adds gently, “You’ve got this, Rome.”

“Yeah, sure,” he says and turns to leave so quickly, he nearly trips on the carpet. Baffled, Gerri closes the door again. 

The press conference is nearly finished when Logan’s text comes in. He can’t be serious about selling. There was a time when she could be certain, but lately who can say what Logan’s going to do? When Roman waves her over, she doesn’t even try to hide her incredulity.

They don’t speak much on the flight back. Roman reclines on the couch next to Gerri and immediately falls asleep as she scrolls through a plethora of new emails. His soft snores are strangely soothing while she works. Occasionally she glances over and notices how peaceful he seems. He’s still sleeping by the time she goes to get some rest herself.

***

Lunch at the summer palace is as tense as expected. Roman plops himself down next to Gerri at the table, shooting her a sideways grin, and for a moment it’s like they’re still in Japan. Logan’s voice quickly pulls her back to reality as they go around the table sharing their “opinions” on the situation. No one of consequence wants to take a stance. Roman mentions not wanting to share his views in a public forum, and it sounds like bullshit, but there’s a shrewdness in his words she might have overlooked a week earlier.

Logan speaks to his children individually after that, and later they reconvene. He’s not selling. Of course he’s not. Roman balks at Kendall’s return, and she can’t blame him for it. Before she had seen Roman’s willingness to listen and learn, she might not have thought to question Logan’s decision, but now she wonders if he’s making a mistake in overlooking Roman.

Gerri’s name comes up as the conversation steers toward successors, and in a matter of seconds she goes from stuffed shirt to head of the company to sad joke. It’s a very particular gift of Logan’s, and it’s unsurprising but all the more frustrating after spending several days having her input heard and valued. She meets Roman’s eyes briefly, and for once they seem on equal footing. Taken down to size by Logan Roy, one after the other.

***

Logan puts Gerri on the proxy battle while simultaneously rejecting her counsel in favor of Shiv’s advice to formulate a hasty response. Apparently, Shiv’s a player now, and Gerri hopes her often unearned overconfidence doesn’t fuck them over, or at least doesn’t fuck Gerri over. It’s hardly shocking. She always did think Shiv’s split from family business and politics was more of a tantrum than any real moral position.

It’s been a week since Japan, and she and Roman haven’t spoken outside of executive meetings with Logan and Kendall. Once she considers texting him when Karl shows up with a godawful haircut she’s sure he’ll have something to say about, but she stops herself. Things are back to normal now, and it’s for the best.

Then, as the proxy meeting she’s in breaks for a five, she gets a call from Roman asking for advice. Logan sent him in to compete with Kendall dealing with Vaulter, and Kendall’s already got some kind of plan. She’s tired and dealing with her own massive workload, but also a little bit pleased that he thought of her when he needed help. She lets him bounce a dud idea off her, and she’s going to have to end the conversation soon when…

“Can you just come over? I want you in the room,” he pleads.

“Can I come over?” she repeats incredulously.

“Yeah, could…y…fuck you!”

“Fuck you!” she responds, but he’s already hung up. So much for advice. He didn’t get much from her beyond “you do shit.” What the fuck was that? Come over? What is she, his fucking girlfriend? She’s still perplexed when she sits back down to the meeting.

“Something funny?” someone asks.

“What?” Gerri realizes she’s smiling, and quickly makes her face neutral. “No.” Jesus.

Apparently, all Roman needed was for someone to tell him to “do shit” because he comes in the next day fully loaded with intel about unionizing and plans to gut Vaulter. It’s impressive, and Gerri is once again struck by how easy it can be to tap into his potential. He flashes a smirk at her when Logan assigns them to work together on the proxy war.

His glee doesn’t last long. 48 hours later, Kendall’s back as Logan’s right hand, and Roman is retreating back into his carefree degenerate façade. Gerri has her hands full, and even if she didn’t, it’s not her job to coddle a grown man, but she feels frustrated on his behalf. It’s just like Logan to squander his assets.

***

Logan decides that the solution to their proxy war is to acquire PGM, something he has tried and failed to do multiple times in the past. Everyone thinks it’s a pipe dream, but no one is willing to say it. Gerri calls Shiv in desperation, hoping there might be an angle to work there. If Shiv is part of the equation now, she should get her hands dirty.

The only times she’s seen Roman lately is in proxy meetings. His confidence is slowly returning, and a part of her wants to encourage that, but mostly she just wants to get back to not giving a damn. She notices him looking at her often, and sometimes it’s difficult to ignore. There’s too much on her plate for whatever is going on with him.

Gerri’s not looking forward to the corporate retreat. Amongst other things, Karolina informs her that some reporter is writing an unauthorized biography about Logan, and they’ve got a source. Someone is going to have to deliver that news to him, preferably when he’s not holding a gun.

That particular problem sorts itself out on the plane when Logan catches her whispering to Karolina, and Gerri jumps at the chance to volunteer her to deliver the news of the biography. Karolina stares daggers at her in response, but it’s a small betrayal—the kind they lob at each other all the time. Gerri knows she’ll be forgiven by the time they land. Petty grudges aren’t their thing.

By the time they land, Gerri’s anxiety has doubled, and she nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels a hand on her lower back as they exit the plane. It’s Roman, and he’s leaning in close enough that she can feel his warm breath on her ear.

“Let the bloodbath begin,” he whispers.

Gerri doesn’t get the chance to answer before the hand is gone, and the man it belongs to disappears somewhere behind her. She tries and fails to will herself not to have goosebumps. Bloodbath indeed. Logan is on the warpath, and Shiv has sent Tom in to be the only thing standing between Waystar and another thwarted PGM deal. This whole retreat is shaping up to be even worse than she’d thought. 

‘Hunting,’ as is done by the Roy family, includes standing on a platform and shooting at terrified, domesticated boar released in direct sight. Gerri’s father would have been appalled. It isn’t exactly common knowledge, but her upbringing wasn’t champagne and caviar. In Moultrie, GA, people learned how to shoot a gun before their baby teeth fell out, and Gerri was no exception. Duck, quail, deer, her father made sure she knew how to take them all down. In her family, hunting had been a bonding activity.

Still, she accompanies everyone to the site and remains there for the duration of the shambolic ritual. Mostly, she works from her phone, ignoring the squealing of boars and the men shooting at them. God knows what they would do if there were any actual hunting involved. Probably end up shooting each other by accident. By the time they start heading back, she’s still amusing herself with that mental image.

“Hey, Ger,” Roman calls, jogging to catch up. “So, does this sort of thing do it for you? A bunch of testosterone-high, manly men shooting their load all over nature with their 12 gauge dicks?”

“Roman, that’s a hunting rifle, not a shotgun. And a 12 gauge would have knocked you off that platform. Which, I admit, would have made this far more entertaining.”

“Guess I shouldn’t be surprised you know all about man-killing machines,” he grins. “Maybe later you can cock my barrel and I’ll show you my pump-action.”

Gerri forces down a chuckle. “You weren’t paying attention to the safety briefing at all, were you?” This is just another one of their things now. He plays dumb, and she chides him. It’s so easy to slip into a pattern. 

He shrugs. “No one got shot. Something must have sunk in.”

“I feel so reassured.”

“Why boar? I mean, this is the Waystar Royco elite, right? Shouldn’t we be hunting people or something?”

“The night is young. Your dad may yet have a head on a platter.”

“Who knows,” Roman replies. “Maybe the sight of all this bloody porcine carnage will get him hard, put him in a better mood.” He waggles his eyebrows and continues on, leaving her with the unsettling feeling that he’s up to something. She wants him to take initiative, but she’s also very aware that sometimes, when he does, things blow up.

Far from better spirits, Logan’s anger is apparent from the moment he enters the room. Gerri attempts an escape through the guise of work, but he insists that she stay. Uneasy, she moves away and finds herself drifting toward Roman again, whose face seems to light up as she enters his space. She pretends not to enjoy it so much.

“Are you ready to feast upon my kill?”

“I was there, Roman. I know for a fact you didn’t kill anything but time.”

“Thought about taking a shot at Frank. Tell everyone I was blinded by the glare from his massive shiny head.”

“You know he’s only back because Logan wants to go after Pierce,” Gerri says in an attempt to soothe his worries, but she knows what a slap in the face it is to have Frank invited back. Lately, it must feel like one step forward, two steps back for Roman. Not that that’s her problem. She has plenty of problems of her own, she reminds herself, noticing Tom talking to Logan across the room.

“Fuck that,” Roman spits. “We’re gonna be able to do this deal without him. Just wait.”

She doesn’t like the sound of that and is about to ask what he means, but just then Logan’s voice fills the room, calling for a toast. There’s danger rolling off of him, and the whole room seems to be holding its collective breath. Ray makes the mistake of trying to get away to the bathroom and is immediately humiliated. Tom’s talk must not have gone well. Shocking. And as it turns out, Logan is just getting started.

***

Gerri is still feeling sick when everyone is dismissed after the excruciating display that was Boar on the Floor. She’s tense and more than a little disgusted by everyone, and for some reason, she can’t shake an overwhelming feeling of sympathy for Roman fucking Roy. He looked so sad and dejected, like a puppy left shivering in the rain. It was almost…cute. Jesus, she needs to get a grip.

Passing her room, she stops in front of the door next to hers and knocks softly. Karolina opens the door wearing a dark silk robe. She takes in the look on Gerri’s face. “Wow. That bad?”

“I need to schedule a meeting with Ruth. That work for you?”

“Come on in.”

Gerri enters the room and immediately spots a glass of brown liquid on the bedside table. Not bothering to ask, she goes and drains its contents. 

Karolina smirks as she closes the door. “I guess I left at the right time.” She had fled between Logan’s toast and the dinner after he barked orders to go handle the biographer.

“You should send Michelle Pantsil a Christmas card this year for giving you somewhere else to be.”

Karolina takes the glass from her and sets it back on the table. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”

“Not here to talk,” Gerri answers and pulls Karolina to her, threading a hand in her dark hair and meeting her lips in a heated kiss. Karolina readily opens, licking into Gerri’s mouth and letting out a soft moan. The kiss tastes of whiskey, and Gerri begins to relax as she feels Karolina’s hand run along her hip and down to squeeze her ass.

A ‘meeting with Ruth’ is their agreed upon code for when one of them is entirely fed up with the testosterone-drenched, puerile antics of the Waystar executive floor and needs some release. It began late one night while finishing up a PR scramble after Kendall had relapsed and tried to ride the Wall Street bull. Karolina was still fairly new and asked Gerri how she handled the day to day stress of Roy absurdity.

***

“You do whatever you can,” Gerri answered. “Drink, do yoga, get laid. Just make sure you show up and get the job done afterward.”

“Two of those, I have covered. The third…how am I supposed to meet anyone when I’m following the Roy children around with a broom and a dustpan all day?”

“Don’t ask me. My husband’s been dead for over a year and with him my sex life.”

“It’s been at least eight months for me.”

Gerri liked Karolina. She kept her head down and voice soft. She showed signs of being able to manipulate and placate in the same ways that had kept Gerri alive at Waystar for so long. They worked well together, and Gerri genuinely hoped she wouldn’t someday have to throw Karolina under the bus like she had done to the last head of PR. So long as she doesn’t step on Gerri’s toes, Gerri could see them even becoming friends, in as much as she has friends. Which is possibly why Gerri leaned in conspiratorially to confide, “A few months ago, I thought about getting a professional.”

“Really?” Karolina asked, amused.

“Even had an agency picked out.” Gerri shrugged. “It’s the world we live in. Anything can be bought.”

“But, you didn’t?”

“No. I don’t know if I want a stranger pawing at me and then have to pay for the privilege. Besides, if Karl ever found out, I’d never hear the end of it. I just bought a new vibrator instead.”

Karolina looked thoughtful. “What about someone more convenient? Someone who you could just get off with when you need it, and then back to work?”

“What, here?” Gerri asked doubtfully. “It’s amazing that working at Waystar hasn’t put me off men entirely.”

Karolina nodded and pursed her lips, like she was considering something. “Would it have to be a man?”

Gerri’s eyebrows raised, and she looked carefully at Karolina, studying her face. “I…suppose not. Are you proposing something?”

“Yes,” Karolina replied frankly. “An arrangement. Something that could benefit us both.”

“I’m listening.”

They spent the next half hour discussing terms, preferences, and other details. Gerri almost expected Karolina to suggest drawing up a contract. It was handled like any other professional agreement except that at the end of it, Gerri was fingered to orgasm while clutching the edge of her desk. It turned out sex with Karolina was enjoyable, and, like everything they did together, efficient.

***

Now Karolina is between Gerri’s thighs on the bed, licking through her folds, teasing around her clit. Gerri groans in frustration. “Jesus, you don’t have to wine and dine me all night. Just get on with it.” She can feel Karolina smiling, but it’s followed by the sensation of a warm tongue circling _just there_ and two fingers pressing up into her. And _fuck_ that’s just what she needed.

Quickly building a steady rhythm, Karolina pumps in and out of Gerri, who brings a hand to her breast, squeezing and rubbing through the fabric of her dress and bra. She closes her eyes as the delicious tension builds within her, trying to forget the events of the day in favor of concentrating on the light suction of Karolina’s lips. Letting a loud moan escape, Gerri sends quick thanks to thick Hungarian walls.

The pace increases when she tugs at Karolina’s hair, and it’s _perfect_ , and Karolina has to put an arm over her hips to keep her from bucking up off the bed. Gerri’s _so close_ , but her mind keeps wandering, going back to earlier—the awful dinner, the farcical hunt, Roman’s forlorn expression, his tasteless flirtations, how he made her smile, Roman—“ _Fuuuuuuuuck_ ,” she groans, clenching and spasming around Karolina’s fingers. Fuck.

Karolina slows, coaxing the last few tremors of Gerri’s orgasm from her. She whimpers slightly as Karolina pulls out and gives her a quick, sharp nip to the thigh. Catching her breath, Gerri desperately tries not to think about a certain underdeveloped manchild. The bed moves beside her, and she turns to meet a pair of smug blue eyes.

“Better?”

“Much,” Gerri answers with a breathy chuckle, but now she’s pretty sure she has a new problem. That is an issue for later, though. Her hand reaches up, brushing her knuckles against Karolina’s jawline. “Your turn?” she asks.

Karolina turns to look at the clock and groans. “I would love that, but I really have to finish making these phone calls. Rain check? Soon, probably?”

Gerri nods sympathetically, getting up and grabbing her underwear from the floor. “Thank you,” she says as she slips back into her shoes.

“Of course.” Karolina stands and gives her a quick kiss, a punctuation to their encounter, like a handshake.

Returning to her own room, Gerri undresses and turns on the shower, eager to wash the day off her. As the hot water hits her skin, her thoughts wander to Roman again, and she’s too tired to try to suppress them. He’s not a moron, not really. Unfocused and impulsive, yes, but she’s been able to combat that with a firm hand and some encouragement.

He wants to prove himself as much as the other two Roy children…the ones that count. Unlike Kendall and Shiv, though, Roman is open to guidance. Not just open to it, he’s desperate for it. It’s a little intoxicating. And when he’s not being completely disgusting, he can make her laugh. Hell, sometimes he can make her laugh when he _is_ being completely disgusting.

By the time Gerri gets into bed, the combination of a hot shower and her time with Karolina has managed to relax her enough to get to sleep fairly easily. Her thoughts lazily drift from one thing to another, drifting back to Roman every now and then. She probably dreams about something along those lines, but by the time she wakes up, it’s already forgotten. 

The morning brings sunshine, coffee, and a tacit agreement to avoid speaking of the events of dinner. Karolina comes in looking like she’s probably been working through the night. She’s found Michelle Pantsil’s source for the biography: Uncle Mo, who has also picked now as a very convenient time to die. There’s one person Gerri doesn’t see at breakfast, so while everyone is packing up, she goes to look for him.

Roman’s still in his room, only mostly dressed. From the looks of it, he didn’t stop drinking when dinner ended. Fair enough. She tells him to hurry up, and he grumbles some more about Frank which makes her chuckle. It’s ridiculous how he’s able to make pathetic seem so charming. When he struggles with his buttons, she responds, moving to help him without thinking about it. Suddenly, he’s very close, and she glances up into his eyes briefly.

“You know if I were capable of any sudden movement, I would totally pounce on you right now.”

It’s more like straightforward flirting than the sordid jokes he usually tosses her way, and if she were a different person, it might throw her.

“Oh yeah?” she shoots back, moving down to the next button and the next. “I actually hear that a lot. Usually from men in their 90s.” Her hand hovers for a moment over the last button directly in front of his crotch before she moves to lightly tap his arm. “You’ll have to do that one.” She clears her throat as she moves back. Smooth.

Gerri asks how he’s doing in part to deflect, but also because she does care…against her better judgment. He complains that Tabitha is responsible for steering him wrong, and she scolds him for not coming to her instead. As she says it, she’s surprised to find she actually is bothered that he didn’t come to her. Isn’t that what they do now?

Roman accepts her offer and asks what he can do to change Logan’s mind about him. He seems earnest, so she gives him the truth that she knows he doesn’t want to hear. “Do the management training program. Ground floor.” He makes some half-hearted noises of protest but doesn’t stop her. “Work in a slaughterhouse. Learn the price of a gallon of milk.”

“What the fuck is his obsession with milk? You know who drinks milk? Kittens and perverts.”

She lets an amused grin play across her face but doesn’t let him off the hook. “You want to know what it will take, and I’m telling you.” She and Logan both come from working class backgrounds, where the value of hard work from the bottom up was instilled in them. If anything can remove the stink of entitlement in Logan’s eyes, this should do it.

“Fine,” he agrees. “Will you…help me get it set up?”

It’s not like getting him into the training program is going to take much more than a phone call, and she almost tells him as much. But he’s looking at her, wide-eyed and pleading with his hair falling in his face, and she says, “Yeah. I’ll help you.”

***

Gerri keeps her word and arranges everything for Roman to join the management training program. She’s right, it took one phone call, but she enjoys his gratitude. Logan seems surprised when Roman tells him, but nods in approval. In the week before he leaves, they still only really see each other in meetings, but he texts her frequently. The texts are rarely work related unless a stream of expletives about Frank counts as work related, but she always sends something back. Sometimes it’s an admonishment to get back to work, sometimes it’s an emoji, sometimes she answers whatever bizarre, pointless question he comes up with out of boredom.

The day Roman is scheduled to start management training, Gerri is on her way to the office thinking about how it won’t be the same with him gone when her phone rings. It’s him, like he can read her mind. He complains to her about his lack of presence in the training video, and they both pretend like it’s not a flimsy excuse for a phone call. She plays along and asks how he’s doing. By the time they hang up, she’s in a genuinely good mood.

Gerri’s just sitting down to the morning meeting when her phone chimes.

Roman: _I am going to kill myself_

She smirks and sends him a thumbs up, pleased that, though he’s out of town, the texts continue. The meeting goes ahead, mostly uneventfully except for the tedious bickering between Shiv and Kendall. Shiv’s sitting in for the day and Gerri has landed the job of keeping her occupied and distracted while Logan and Kendall meet with PGM’s CEO, Rhea Jarrell. Apparently, Logan wants Shiv in but not too far in.

The day takes a turn when there are reports of a shooting in the building. She’s shuffled into the saferoom with Logan, Shiv, Rhea, and eventually, Kendall. There’s nothing Gerri can do except keep working from her phone while she listens in on the conversation with Rhea. Her phone vibrates.

Roman: _u ok?_

Gerri: _Fine. I’m with your family in the saferoom._

Roman: _What happened? Don’t tell me Kendall finally snapped_

Gerri: _No one’s told us yet. Maybe antifa?_

Roman: _didn’t think those libfucks had it in em_

It turns out there was no real threat. Just another Waystar employee who couldn’t take it anymore and shot himself. As general counsel, this is hardly the first time she’s encountered this kind of a situation. The saferoom may have worked in their favor, however. Logan seems like he could be on his way to a deal with Pierce thanks to Rhea’s help.

***

Gerri is watching the news (the real news) and drinking her second martini when Roman calls. He’s whining about the video again, and it still seems like a flimsy excuse. She’s feeling punchy from being cooped up with the Roys all day, and it’s a perfect opportunity to unleash some of it on the one Roy who can take it. Now he’s trying to build a goddamned roller coaster.

“Go to bed, Roman. Go to bed and masturbate all your ideas out, and let’s see how excited you feel tomorrow.”

“Well...maybe…maybe I will. Maybe I’ll just leave you here on the pillow so you can hear my brilliance cascading.”

“Fine,” if he expects her to flinch at that, he’s going to be disappointed. “I’ve heard plenty worse than a spoiled brat ejaculating on himself.”

“Are you sure about that? I could be doing it now for all you know.” The mental image hits her harder than she expected, and she starts to wonder if he’s really going to call her bluff.

“Well, get going, chop, chop!” She hears his breath growing heavy and erratic. Fuck. He’s actually doing it. Like he does everything she tell him to. The only real shock she feels is by how delighted she is. “You, disgusting little pig.”

His breathing gets faster. She thinks she can hear the faint clink of his belt buckle while he moves.

“You’re pathetic.” He keeps going, and she imagines him splayed out on the bed, desperate for her to continue. She can feel her own arousal growing. “You are a revolting little worm, aren’t you?”

“Yeah…yeah…yeah, I am…ugh,” he pants. He’s getting closer.

“Little slime puppy.” She doesn’t even know where that came from, but god is this the best time she’s had in a while.

“Yes! Yeah…what else am I?”

“You’re revolting, Roman.”

“Yes! Yeah…please…”

“Just an entitled little maggot with no hope—”

Roman lets out a long, stuttered moan. It seems that last one was the ticket. He pants into the phone, recovering. Gerri waits, curious if he’s just going to hang up and not acknowledge what just happened.

“Thanks,” he breathes.

“You’re welcome,” she says a little more smugly than intended.

“We should…uh…we should do this again sometime.”

“Goodnight, Rome,” she responds, fully aware that she’s leaving him hanging.

“Night.”

Gerri hangs up the phone and tosses it on the couch next to her. Well that was…something. It was a far cry from a practical, clear-headed arrangement with a colleague. It was messy, and probably dangerous, and definitely ill-advised. And fun. Damn, but it was fun. And hot. She supposes she has at least until their next phone call to figure out what to do about this in the long run, but for now she unzips her skirt and slides her fingers into her underwear.

**Author's Note:**

> So, I don't know if this really fulfills the two prompts that well, so apologies to bamboobrat and lizwontcry!
> 
> This motherfucker took way too long to write for how short it is!
> 
> I'm also not super comfortable writing from Gerri's POV, so any feedback is greatly appreciated!


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